Never Alone
by Nikki Wolfsbane
Summary: Sai Scott is a thirteen year old street rat living in the heart of Paris, near the theater known as the Opera Populaire. She is saved one night by a man who she has come to know as her Defender, so when Sai grows up in the Opera house, things start to go awry when the mysterious Phantom of the Opera appears on Sai's debut. Can Sai solve the mystery of the Phantom of the Opera?
1. Chapter 1: Rescue Me

Chapter 1: Rescue Me/p  
I dig through the trash bins, desperately trying to come up with something to eat. It has been so long since I've had a real meal, I can barely remember what it's like not to be hungry.  
"No one pays attention to the little ten year old girl digging through the bins, her black hair oily and full of rat's nests, the left side of her face hidden from view by shadows. That would be me. People this year, 1867, are not exactly what one would call considerate or caring enough to even so much as throw me a scrap of meat or bread. My clothes are almost falling off in their tattered state, my once nice dress torn and stained by six years in the alleys. It's nearly dark, but I don't have to worry about getting home, as I have none.  
My parents died when I was no older than four, and I have no family. I look around, trying to remember where in the city of Paris I am. I'm not French, in fact, my mother was Scottish. I don't remember who my father was, as he wasn't around very much when I was little. I do remember my mother singing to me at night, in fact that's the only thing that I remember of her.  
that's why I am here at this time of night in this particular section of Paris. I am in the trash alley behind the Opera House, the famous Opera Populaire. My mother used to sing these songs to me, so they are always familiar. It's dangerous around Paris at night, but I have to risk it. I must hear these songs. They're the only thing that I have left of my family, and they're part of me now. "Think of me, think of me fondly, when we say goodbye," Someone sings.  
I begin to sing along, as I have heard this song so many times from when I was a child. "Remember me-" I start, before A voice says "Oh, I'll remember you, sweetheart." I jump, pressing myself against the cold stone wall of the alley. Three men approach me, one carrying a club, the other, a metal pipe. They smack the clubs into their palms, approaching me with malicious intent.  
I stagger backwards, stumbling and falling to the dirty ground as they come at me. "Oh, come on now, girl. We just want to have a little fun!" They say, and two of them grab my arms, yanking me to my feet. The third, pulling out his club, starts hitting me in the ribs with it as the others hold me back. The other two men laugh, throwing me back down to the ground as they grab their own pipes and sticks, and begin to hit me, laughing and yelling insults like "Alley freak!" "Stupid rat!" And some that I won't put down into writing. "I cover my face with my arms, a desperate attempt to stop the blows and the pain. I've dealt with this all my life. All of it. They continue to hit me, and I scream with pain and fear.  
One of them kicks me in the mouth, saying "Shut up!" I cry, sobbing so very hard as they beat me to a pulp. I can't do anything about it. They continue to slam their clubs against me, and I know that they won't let me go alive. But, as the biggest one smiles evilly, his rotten teeth showing as he raises his club for an extra hard blow, a rope goes around his throat and he's wrenched backwards.  
The other two men stop hitting me to see what's happening. The songs from the Opera house drown out all the sounds of the struggle. No one can hear what's happening. The man was being choked by a large rope, and the man that was choking him….he wore a black cape and a black Spanish-like suit with a black tie/ascot.  
He threw the man he had choked into a bunch of garbage cans, and they crashed and clanked as the choked man flew through the air, the rope still around his neck. This cloaked one must be strong, because each one of the men who had beaten me had to be at least 300 pounds each. But what really got me about this rescuer, was that he wore a strange white mask over one half of his face.  
His hair was black and slicked back, his eyes a beautiful shade of blue. He landed a kick on the other attacker's stomach, whipping around and punching him down. The man tried to get back up, but one kick to the face from my rescuer stopped that idea. He picked up one of the clubs, throwing it aside so it was not to be used again. /p  
p class="MsoNormal"He turned his masked face and laser-like glare to the last attacker, who promptly dropped his club and ran for his life. The masked man looked down at me, and I scrambled backwards, not really knowing if he was a true rescuer, or if he just wanted to scare away the competition. He approached me slowly, carefully, and I saw him scanning me, taking in my appearance. But that's all I saw before everything faded into darkness.  
3rd Person's POV  
The masked man knelt down, picking up the unconscious girl in his arms and carrying her limp form into a small door in the side of the huge theater. The music from the opera still sounded out strongly, so he figured he'd have plenty of time.  
"He took a few steps inside, pushing a curtain aside and pressed his gloved hand against part of the wall, a panel sliding into its proper place, and slipped into the passage that slid open at his touch. He pulled a lever on the other side of the door, and the stone wall closed behind him, a gentle thud echoing throughout the hallways. He walked down the stone tunnel, with only a few torches on the walls to light his path.  
He carried the girl through the many twists and turns of the labyrinth beneath the opera house, the labyrinth that only he knew of. And only he could navigate properly. Many twists and turns later, he came upon a large lever on the wall, along with what would one day be known as a two way mirror. He pulled the lever, being careful not to drop the girl in his arms as he did so, and walked through the full length mirror into a room.  
The room was small, and it looked more like an abandoned attic, which is exactly what it was. There was clutter just about everywhere, but in the back corner was a bed, pillows and blankets. The masked man walked over to the bed in the back corner and laid the girl down on the bed, gently resting her head on a soft pillow, and then pulled a blanket up around her shoulders.  
She looked so peaceful, so serene. But the way that he had laid her, he could only see the right half of her face. Come to think of it, he'd never even seen the left side. But he didn't mind that.  
"He bent down, gently caressing the side of her face with his gloved finger. "Sleep well, my nightingale." He whispered, taking off his cloak and lying it on top of her to help keep her warm, then stood back up, slipping back into the passage with one final glance back at the sleeping little girl.


	2. Chapter 2: Christine

Chapter 2: Christine

I woke up to near panic.

I sat straight up in the bed, taking in my rather beautiful surroundings.

It seemed to be an old attic, with cobwebs and dust and a bunch of old props and wardrobes and dressers and things cluttering up the rather large space. It was mostly just thrown away things, but I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

I looked around, and I saw no sign of my rescuer, or anyone, really. As I sat up in the bed, I realized that a thick, warm cloak had been lying on top of me. His cloak. The black outside with the red lining was hard to miss.

I grab the cloak, pushing the other blankets back and wrap myself in the cloak to hide my tattered clothes as I slip out of the bed and set my bare feet on the warm wooden floor.

Over at a nightstand next to me, a set of twin knives lay, and an insignia of a half mask, like the one worn by my rescuer, was engraved on the pommels. I pick them up, and somehow, I know that they were for me. The slightly curved blades had a near-transparent turquoise streak up the bloodline of the blade.

The rest of the blade was a silver, and the cross guard was shaped like a bird's wings, like they were folding back to protect the hand of the wielder. I glance over at the full-body mirror to my right, taking in my rather icky appearance. I desperately need a bath, a comb, and some serious shampoo.

I'd only ever had this sort of thing when I was very little, and my mother and father had still been there. I walk over to the table, seeing some clay, metal scraps, and string on it, all of these items covered in a thick layer of dust.

There is an old oven and things here, and a bunch of other junk lying around. There are fabric and sewing materials, enough to make some new clothes. Whoever this Defender is, I wish that he was here to speak to, to ask why. Why he helped me.

I walk around the room, before going to the large wooden door that blocks my hideaway from the rest of…well, wherever I am. Where could he have gone? Into the woodwork? I sigh, leaning against the large wooden door. But that's when I hear the footsteps.

They clomp across the floor, every step making chills run across my spine. I race to hide behind a wardrobe, barely peeking out from behind it as the huge wooden door creaks open. I suppose that I could hide IN it, but, nope.

I hold my breath for a moment, preparing for the worst. Ummm…..no. In walks a young girl, her curly reddish brown hair bouncing with every step, her brown eyes scanning the room for something. Could she have heard me walking around?

She is wearing a pink ballet costume, her gliding gait showing that she is a student of ballet or some such dance. She glides over to a table with some fabrics on it, looking them over briefly, running her fingers over each one before selecting a bright pink satin and starting to turn back towards the door.

I begin to think that my troubles are over, but before I start to move out, I knock over a metal stand. It clanks to the ground, the sound reverberating in the small room.

The ballerina whips around, staring into the darkness. "Hello?" She asks nervously. No response. "Is there anyone here?" She slowly starts to walk into the dark attic. She looks every which way, and I don't breathe.

I can't let her find me. Please, don't let her find me. She rounds the wardrobe I'm hiding behind, and I scramble to get out of her line of vision. But, as usual, I stumble and fall on the cloak, crashing into more metal stands.

How many of them are there up here? She runs behind the wardrobe quickly and sees me; a young black haired girl sprawled out over several stands, wrapped in a cloak with her hand over the side of her face. She looks at me curiously, almost scared, and I stare back with a similar expression. She leans towards me slightly, whispering "I've never seen you around here before. Are you a new student?"

I shake my head, my eyes wide. I was scared, for sure. Everyone I had ever met, my whole life, had only tried to hurt me, kill me even. Except my Defender. "It's okay! I won't hurt you." She says, her arms out to me, palms out, in a non threatening manner. "My name is Christine, what's yours?"

I shook, whispering "S-S-Sai." She smiled, offering me a delicate hand up. I took it, scrambling to my feet with all of the grace of a drunken polecat. She looks me over as I struggle to hide my torn clothes with the cloak. "Well, Sai, perhaps you'd like to live with us, the rest of the ballet girls, instead of up here all alone?" She whispered, and I ducked my head, whispering "They wouldn't want me."

"Nonsense! But.." She trailed off, seeing that my hand was still over the left side of my face. "What's wrong with your face?" She asked, her hand reaching for my hand. "Nothing!" I said, whipping around, my back to her as I leaned against a table that I think I tripped over. Hard to tell.

"W-W-W-would you wait outside for just a minute?" I stuttered, and she nodded carefully, walking across the wooden floor and stepping outside to wait. As soon as the door shut softly, I scrambled around, trying to find a way to escape. There was a window right next to my bed, but we were at the highest point of the building, which I'm guessing is the Opera House. I sighed, looking around.

If I can't escape, I might as well go with it. Not like I have too much of a choice in the matter. It's either go with Christine, or attempt to escape and probably kill myself. But, even if I did escape, what would I do? Go back to the alleys? I spy the table with the clay and metal scraps and I run over, grabbing the clay and beginning to work. This would take a bit, but here goes.

I hope that oven still works.


	3. Chapter 3: The Mask

Chapter 3: The Mask

I twirled in my gown, barely avoiding stepping on another ballerina by the name of Hannah. It's been three years since my Defender had left me alone in the attic, and since I had met Christine in that rather odd manner.

Christine and I had gone through Ballet classes together, and now, we were old enough to perform in the opera. I'm only thirteen, but that's old enough to at least dance in the back.

But I have a much bigger part than that this time. I've never actually performed in front of a large crowd of people, most of the time, it's just our instructors and maybe a few other ballerina trainees. But I have to say, the idea excites me!

It's a bit crazy around here, with everyone bustling around, pulling this, tightening that, prepping this, trying to get everything in place for the opera tonight. My big debut! We're carefully scrutinized by our instructors and other ballerinas as we practice our ballet, but from what I can see, we are doing it perfectly, better than ever before.

I just hope that we do this well tonight, and not foul it up as we may do. We all float gracefully across the stage, which is for me, somewhat of a miracle, as I have never really been one for graceful movements. As can be seen by how I met Christine.

My, what a klutz I was then. And I still am, most of the time. "This is outrageous!" Screeches a voice from behind us. The high-pitched soprano voice hurts my ears, but I have to bear it and not cover them as I would much like to.

"Why should this…this….this mouse take MY part in the opera?!" Madame DuJacques screeches. I cringe, knowing exactly what she is talking about. Not one hour ago, I was told that I was going to be practicing for the lead role, and, if I was good enough, maybe even performing as the star! In my first opera!

This would be amazing! But, as I now see, it was supposed to be Madame DuJacques's part. Oh, no. This is not going to be an easy task to pull off, that can be for certain. The manager, who was seemingly standing by us and making sure that our dance technique on the stage was up to par, turned around to see Madame crashing towards him, her huge pink dress unfurling behind her, her six assistants bowing and fussing about her, using makeup and fixing her hair and using perfume and writing things down as she comes up to the manager, her high pitched voice screeching throughout the huge opera theatre.

I shudder as the manager steps in front of her, his palms out and arms extending, and tries to calm her down, but to no avail. She blows everyone out of her way to get to me, pushing aside several attendants. Christine slips back, smart enough to run when she sees a fight incoming. She's not usually one to fight back, especially to adults, and in particular, this star soprano.

"And what kind of experience do you have, you little toad?" She says in that weird Italian accent that she uses just about all of the time. Well, if you can call it an Italian accent. "I have enough." I retaliate, and she looks back at me in disgust as I raise my head high.

She's not beating me down this time. Not today. Not tonight. "You'll soon see. You'll know better soon enough! The Opera Ghost won't like this! He love me. Love me, love me, love me." She squeaked, before bustling away, her assistants fussing after her. I sigh.

This Opera Ghost had been terrorizing all of us for since long before I got there. He had just recently started sending notes about his salary not being paid by our manager. His signature, the skull imprint in the wax, was on every letter.

It seemed he had become active again after all of this time. He hadn't been heard from in a long time, because the manager met his demands and did what he asked, but recently, he had decided that the Ghost's demands were ridiculous, and utterly refused to bow to the Ghost. Hopefully the Ghost didn't destroy anything on the night of my debut in this beautiful opera house.

It was nearly time for the opening curtain. The stage was being set, and I had to go change to my new gown! Everything had changed so much since I got here. The little street rat of a girl, who was brutally beaten down that one night so long ago, was now one of the best dancers in the opera house.

All because of my Defender. I looked over the stage and the seats, familiarizing myself for tonight. I had been across this stage millions of times, practiced here more times than I can remember. But it suddenly feels different, strange, confusing, even terrifying.

"Come on, Sai! We need to get you ready!" Christine said, grabbing my wrist and dragging me behind the thick velvety curtain back to my room. Yes, believe it or not, I have my own room now! It's actually the attic where I was found, but all of the extra junk has been moved out and my bed has been placed in a better spot by the floor to ceiling window.

Christine drags me past several workers holding the ropes to the scenery and chandelier, and past several other extras and student ballerinas on our path to the rickety old wooden stairs. I sprint up the stairs and into the attic, and see the nightstand by my bed is in its usual position, the book on it and the single red rose with the black ribbon tied around it in the vase. I don't know how the roses get there.

I just wake up every morning and there they are in the crystal vase. I've always thought that Christine left them, but she refused to admit it. But I don't believe her, after all, there's no one else who could leave them, especially not any of the managers or the other girls, or even Madam Giry.

I walk over to my little closet, picking out the dress that I need to wear and sitting down at the desk with the mirror and the makeup and things. I gaze into the silver mirror, looking at my reflection, and the one thing that I had that the other girls never did, and probably never would.

A white mask that hid the left half of my face, the same kind of mask that my Defender wore that night. He saved my life, and changed it in so many ways. I have to wear this as I am out on the stage, and I hope that maybe, just maybe, he's out there in the audience, watching.

I'd know if he's there. I'd always know. "Do you have to wear that awful thing?" Christine asks, touching the side of my mask with the tips of her fingers gently, and I look back at her, a smile on my face. "You know your Angel of Music?" I ask, and she nods, smiling towards the ground at the mention of her hero and mentor.

Her Angel had taught her to sing, and been her friend since her father had died a few years ago. "My Defender is like your Angel of Music. Except, mine doesn't sing to me. He just….saved me. And he still protects me, I know he does."

I say, standing up and going behind a small separator and changing into the frilly dress that I hate, but have to wear. I never was one for frilly, probably because I knew that I didn't really need it. After all of those years on the streets, frilly was something that I never really related to, and I knew that I didn't really need it.

Only moments later, I come back out from behind the small separator, giving the dress a slight twirl before taking my place at the desk again. Christine sighs, coming closer to help me with my hair. It's long since been combed and properly cared for, and it's currently in a ponytail like it usually is. She pulls the hair tie out, combing my hair with her fingers and starting to style my hair as I put on the jewelry that I need.

"This is your big night. Everyone is going to think that you're some kind of freak if you go out there wearing that. You know that the managers aren't going to like it at all." Christine says worriedly, and I shrug as I put a bracelet on, securing the silver clasp and gazing at the diamonds. "Then that is the way that it is going to be." I'm loyal as I can be. I look over at the rose in the vase as Christine puts my hair up in that weird now day fashion.

The single red rose stares at me, the black ribbon tied around the stem sending its own message. I wonder…. I look over at the coat rack, where I have always hung my Defender's cloak. I hear his voice sometimes at night, when I'm very still and quiet. Some may say that I never really heard his voice when he rescued me, so how can I know that it's him?

I just…know. That's all. No magic. No kidding around. I just know that it's him. Christine finishes putting my hair up and lays her hands on my shoulders. "Are you sure that you're ready for this, Sai? You can still back out and give the part to Miss DuJacques. I'm sure that she wouldn't mind one little bit.

" I shake my head, making my new hairdo flap all over the place. Man, I hate these things. "No. I have waited for years to do this, Christine. I'm not backing out now. You can go and sing in the back with Meg and Hannah if you want. I'm doing this." I say, taking a deep breath. Christine nods, supporting my decision as she always does.

She's never one to argue, unless it's something that she deeply cares about, such as her Angel of Music. Then, she can be a tiger. I turn around in my chair, standing and embracing Christine. "I know that you don't like this idea, but I have to, Christine. I need to do this." I say, and she returns the embrace, being careful to avoid knocking my mask off.

I don't like anyone touching it. I never have. But Christine is my best friend, and I made an exception in her case. She pulls out of my embrace, saying "You'll ruin your dress and that hair. Come on, we still have to get your makeup on." She says with a smile. I laugh "And what? So that I can look like a miniature clown?" Christine laughs, and I sit back down, grabbing my makeup case and starting to work. Oh, great.


End file.
